13 novembro 2012











e, há quarenta anos, quando os pink floyd tinham piada e ainda nos surpreendiam...




as i reach for a peach 

slide a rind down behind 

the sofa in san tropez
breakin' a stick with a brick on the sand
ridin' a wave in the wake of an old sedan


sleepin' alone in the drone of the darkness, 

scratched by the sand that fell from my love, 

deep in my dreams and i still hear her callin' 

"if you're alone, 
i'll come home." 



backward and homebound,
the pigeon, the dove,
gone with the wind and the rain on an airplane
owning a home with no silver spoon,
i'm drinking champagne like a good tycoon

sooner than wait for a break in the weather,
i'll gather my far-flung thoughts together
speeding away on the wind to a new day
and if you're alone i'll come home. 


and i pause for a while
by a country style
and listen to the things they say
diggin' for gold in a hole in my hand
open a book take a look at the way things stand
and you're leading me down to the place by the sea

i hear your soft voice calling to me
making a date for later by phone
and if you're alone i'll come home.










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